


you should've seen the light go out in your eyes (when you finally caught on)

by danahscott



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Accidents, Established Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, F/M, but i thought i'd be safe and tag it, neither is the violence, the character death isn't too bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 00:30:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14437539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danahscott/pseuds/danahscott
Summary: Clarke slipped her hand under the handle of her suitcase. She allowed herself one final, longing look at Bellamy. He couldn't have loved her any better; she hoped that one day, Bellamy realized that. She hoped he knew this wasn't because of him. Gently, she let the door click behind her. The taxi was downstairs waiting.Or, Clarke leaves in season two set in modern day.





	you should've seen the light go out in your eyes (when you finally caught on)

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys, so this is my first bellarke fic! i reallllly hope it's in character, but i am very new to this haha. also that premiere last night has me really dead so i needed some established bellarke in my life.... anyways. i know i marked major character death, but don't worry it's more of minor character death and i just wanted to be sure. 
> 
> also this sorta bounces around time a lot so i hope it's not confusing. 
> 
> this is essentially clarke leaving at the end of season two if it was set in modern day. i think it'll make more sense after you read. hope you enjoy!!

By the fourth time Clarke checked her suitcase, she knew she was just stalling. The sun hadn't come up yet, but it would be morning in half an hour. She had to be gone by then. Bellamy always woke up with the sun.

He was snoring softly, his hand twisted up in the sheets. She thought about the way he looked last night, when he'd come home and caught her packing - she didn't want to think about that again. She didn't want to know she was responsible for that. Clarke had stayed at Wells' for too long. If she had come home earlier, then she would already have been on the plane, far away from here, from Bellamy, from the slanted light hitting his soft, sleeping form.

But even though Clarke knew this only made it harder to leave, she was glad she had one more night with him. Something good to hold on to. Even if it didn't change her mind, like Bellamy so clearly hoped it would. She went over to him one last time. His freckles were always so bright this time of year. She fought the urge to reach out, to trace them, to feel his skin against hers, but she couldn't risk waking him. Clarke grabbed the keys from the nightstand and slid them into her pocket. It was time to go.

She slipped her hand under the handle of her suitcase. She allowed herself one final, longing look at Bellamy. He couldn't have loved her any better; she hoped that one day, Bellamy realized that. She hoped he knew this wasn't because of him. Gently, she let the door click behind her. The taxi was downstairs waiting.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

As if he could feel that Clarke wasn't in the room anymore, Bellamy woke up as soon as the door clicked shut.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"Clarke! Wait!" When Bellamy ran down, he wasn't even wearing any shoes. All he could think of was getting to her before she was gone forever. Her blonde head was ducking into the back seat of the cab when Bellamy rapped on the window. She wasn't leaving before he had the chance to talk to her. If he had his way, she wouldn't be leaving at all.

When she reluctantly stepped out of the cab, she couldn't meet his eyes. That was how he knew he it was hopeless. But he decided to try anyway. "I thought - after last night…" He trailed off. Clarke shut her eyes tight. "Please, Clarke, you don't have to do this. We'll figure it out. Together."

She took in a shuddering breath. He noticed her hands were shaking. He fought back the urge to take them into his. "Bellamy, you haven't - you haven't seen the way Jasper looks at me, the way everyone looks at me. Octavia. Raven. Even Monty."

"It wasn't your fault, you know that." Bellamy was getting desperate. He wished there was something he could say, some magic phrase that would fix everything. But any hope of her staying died when she finally met his eyes. He knew that look. "Where are you gonna go?"

"I don't know. Wherever the first available flight takes me, I guess."

"So you're just running?" He wished he had something better to say. Something she could look back on with at least a little fondness, some last happy memory of this goddamned town.

"Anything's better than this," she said, but her voice broke on the last word. "I tried, Bellamy. I need you to believe that I tried."

He nodded, clenching his teeth together. He did know that. "You don't have to bear all this yourself, Clarke."

"I do, though." She paused, as if she was hesitating. "But I think it might be a little easier to carry if I'm somewhere else." The air was heavy around them. One peek into the cab and Bellamy could tell the driver was getting impatient. There wasn't anything else to say, but he didn't want to say goodbye. Not yet. "I'll write to you," she offered, half-heartedly.

"No, you won't," he said, gently. He wanted her to know he wasn't angry. If she had to leave, he wanted her to be free of whatever she thought was holding her down. He didn't understand yet, he knew that in an hour he'd be angry again, sitting all alone in their empty apartment. But this was the only goodbye he was going to get, and he wasn't about to ruin it. He'd have plenty of time to wallow.

Clarke pulled him into a hug, and Bellamy could barely register that this was probably the last time he'd ever get to hold her. "I love you," she whispered, and then pressed her lips to his cheek. He couldn't move. He tried to remember everything, what she smelled life, looked like, felt like. He wanted to hold onto the memory of her, but he couldn't move. He couldn't even say it back.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

When Clarke finally looked away, Bellamy's face looked so sad that she had to look away. God. If this was the right choice - and it was, she knew that it was - then why did it feel so awful? Her hands were shaking as the driver pulled away. She figured that eventually, with some distance, and some time, that would stop. And forty minutes into the plane ride to Spain, once Clarke finally fell asleep, it did.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

When it happened, it was just a normal day. Clarke still couldn't remember most of the morning leading up to the accident. Octavia was home for the weekend, and Jasper had brought his new girlfriend, Maya, to meet everybody. Clarke was told they were all headed down to the lake for a picnic, that it was Wells' idea. Clarke was glad that it was his idea and not hers. That was at least one thing that day that she wasn't responsible for.

Her memory comes back around the time she gave Bellamy a quick peck, and headed to the car. They had agreed to take two trips. Bellamy had the picnic materials, so he left first. Lincoln, Raven, and Jasper went in Bellamy's car. Maya, Octavia and Wells went with her.

Most of the car ride was spent trying to get to know Maya. Clarke remembered that she was really shy. It was one of the only things she remembered about her. Wells was sitting in the passenger seat and Maya was sitting behind him.

Jasper was so crazy about her. She'd talked with him on the phone two nights before the trip.

"She's just so beautiful, Clarke. And she - it feels like she just gets me, you know? And, once, she took me to this art museum, and I've never really gotten that stuff, but god, the look on her face when she was showing me the paintings - You're gonna love her, Clarke. I told her about your art and she just, she can't wait to meet you."

"That's great, Jasper. I'm so happy for you."

And she was. Actually, Clarke couldn't remember ever being happier. She and Bellamy were three months into living together, Wells had just moved to an apartment down the street, and she was finally starting to pursue her art. And her friends seemed happy, too.

But as Maya was halfway through the story of how she and Jasper met, a van rammed into the passenger side of Clarke's car, and all of that ended.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Clarke woke up to Octavia shaking her and yelling her name. It took her only a moment to remember what had happened.

This is the part Clarke wished she didn't remember. If she could erase this, then maybe the guilt wouldn't be so enveloping. But she remembered all of it, every single second.

And it started like this: "Clarke, please. Clarke, please wake up, I don't - I don't know what to do, Clarke?"

She blinked her eyes open, wincing. There was a piercing pain in her side that she instantly identified as a broken rib. But she must have gotten hit on the head, because there was a sound in her ears like television static, and her vision was swimming, blinking in and out of blackness. But she forced herself to focus on Octavia, who was clutching her wrist and speaking so fast that her words were blurring together.

"Clarke? Can you hear me? Clarke?"

She wasn't in the car anymore, she realized. She was lying on the hot asphalt, but she didn't feel any cuts, and she was wearing her seatbelt, so was she ejected from the car? No, that couldn't have been right.

"What - Octavia, what hap -"

"I don't know, we were, we were hit. The other car just - just took off. And then, you wouldn't wake up and I don't - Clarke, I don't know what to do."

"Wells? Maya?"

"I pulled them out, too. I don't know, in films and stuff, cars are always blowing up, I didn't know -"

"Octavia, are you hurt? Are you okay?" She was more alert now, and her heart leapt up into her throat. How long had she been out? The van had hit the passenger side of the car and - oh god, were they dead?

"I'm okay, but my wrist - my wrist is -" Clarke took a look at it and then quickly fought the urge to look away. She'd interned under her mom at the hospital for years, but she'd never seen bones look like that. Octavia had it uselessly cradled against her chest. She was quickly becoming incoherent. Clarke needed her to stay focused for as long as possible.

"Maya and Wells, are they -"

"They don't look so good, Clarke."

That was all it took to get Clarke on her feet. Black spots danced across her vision as soon as she stood up but she worked through it. She saw both of them sprawled onto the ground, and she bit back the bile rising up in her throat as she saw splotches of deep red staining the ground.

"Octavia, I have a med kit in the front seat. I need you to get it." She heard Octavia turn and run. Every step hurt, but she didn't stop until she was directly in front of Wells and Maya. Wells was bad. He had a long cut down his middle, but Clarke couldn't tell if it was just a flesh wound or not. His leg was twisted under him, and there was blood trickling down his forehead. He was really bad.

But Maya was dying. She was unconscious, pale, chest rising up and down shallowly. Spots of crimson bloomed all over her white sundress, but Clarke couldn't tell where the blood started or ended. But she figured the first thing to do would be to close up the gaping wound in her side. She could almost hear her mother whispering instructions into her ear.

"Are they okay? Can you help them?" she heard Octavia call out to her.

"Maya's in really bad shape. She needs help now. But they're both really bad, I don't..." Her chin was trembling. She was so scared. Octavia pressed the med kit to Clarke's chest and Clarke fought back a whimper of pain. "Octavia, is your phone broken?"

"The screen's cracked, but -"

"Call 911."

Clarke never regretted the decision she made in this moment. Even after the guilt, and the blaming, after everything that followed the crash, when she looked at Maya and Wells, knowing that Maya was worse, knowing that maybe if she went to Maya first she could have saved both of them, and she went to Wells anyway, Clarke still knew that given the chance, she would make the same decision.

Wells was still conscious, and he grabbed her wrist, weakly. "Her, first. Clarke, she's worse. Her, first," he tried to say.

"She's next," Clarke said, and got to work. The cut was shallower than it looked and she thanked god for that. Wells was passing in and out of consciousness as she stitched him up, but she managed to stop the bleeding. She was feeling woozy, and she was so, so tired, but she made herself keep going.

She hadn't seen the wound in his leg at first sight, but she acted fast, making a tourniquet, her heart thumping hard in her chest. She didn't know if she was doing any of this right - it had been so long since she'd quit med school - but she thought the grey pallor was starting to fade from his face as she worked.

She couldn't have been working on Wells for very long, but it didn't matter. She was turning to Maya, to save her - she could save them both, she knew she could, and she would have done it, but all Clarke remembered was turning towards Maya's body - still alive the last time she saw it - feeling like all the air was being sucked out of her body, and slipping into a painful unconsciousness again.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

By the time the ambulances came, Maya was dead. Wells was alive. Clarke was passed out. And Octavia had seen everything.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

She woke up in the hospital. Bellamy was in the chair beside her, his head in his hands. He looked so sad, so tired, so worried. That was the first pang of guilt she got. She had been driving, she remembered. That was on her.

"Are they okay?" She asked, softly.

"Clarke," he looked up, face crumpling in relief.

"Octavia, Wells, Maya, are they alright?"

"Oh, god, Clarke." He paused, breathing deeply. "I thought - you were just -"

"Bellamy, please."

He swallowed, looking down at his hands. That was how she knew it was bad. "Octavia's okay. Her wrist is broken in a million places, but she's fine." Clarke held her breath for the others. "Wells is gonna pull through. He's fine, he's awake now." Bellamy stopped, and she could see him silently pleading with her not to ask.

Clarke knew the answer before she asked the question, but she had to hear it out loud. "And Maya?"

"Maya didn't make it."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Octavia had only grown more frantic once Clarke passed out. Wells and Clarke hadn't been allowed visitors yet, and they couldn't give any news about Maya until her family was notified. But Octavia was there. She had seen everything.

She probably didn't mean to tell them. But once Bellamy, Lincoln, Raven, and Jasper made it to the hospital, it all came rushing out. The crash, the injuries, and the decision Clarke made. "Maya was really badly hurt - I heard Wells telling Clarke to go to her instead but she ignored him and worked on him anyway, and then she just passed out and - I don't know if they're okay - Maya's dead, though - she died - Clarke just let her die."

Honestly, Clarke didn't know exactly what Octavia told them, but she guessed it was something like that. Because it was like they were all there, watching her turn away from Maya. It wasn't that she didn't want to save Maya, but it was Wells. She couldn't risk Wells dying, she couldn't even bear that thought of it - he was her best friend. And she thought she'd have time for both of them.

But the way Jasper looked at her now - it was like Clarke had smothered the life out of Maya with her own two hands, like she had wanted her to die.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

She had to watch as Jasper spiraled. Everyone had to watch. Monty would take him home every night, sloppy and drunk, crying and mumbling incoherent things. Sometimes, long before Clarke stopped going out with everyone, she would hear him say "Clarke killed her. It's Clarke's fault," as he was being dragged out the door.

She understood. He needed someone to blame - and maybe she could've handled it if it was just Jasper. But now whenever she went near Octavia, she'd tense up a little bit, and Monty wouldn't meet her eyes. Raven was struggling to carry on like everything was normal when the whole group was falling apart. Bellamy just made it clear that he was on her side.

It was Wells who helped her decide to leave. Aside from Bellamy, he was the only one she could talk to anymore. And Bellamy would never want her to go, so it had to be Wells. Arkadia was a small town - too small - and it was starting to feel like everyone knew what she'd done. But what could they have asked her to do? What if Clarke just woke up and did nothing? She'd had a concussion and some broken ribs, and she didn't have to help, she didn't have to do anything. So even if she didn't help in the best way, she still helped. Maybe it was just that the stakes were too high.

Sometimes, Clarke wished she hadn't woken up until they got to the hospital. But then, she'd see Wells laughing and she'd know that losing Wells was never an option, that grieving him would hurt so much more than the guilt she felt now. The afternoon before she left, she came to his apartment crying, and he just hugged her and told her, "If this is what you have to do to be okay again, Clarke, then go do it. You haven't done anything wrong."

When he said that, she felt something fall loose inside of her.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

So she said a long goodbye to Wells, went home and started packing.

She was double-checking that she had everything when Bellamy walked through the door. She hadn't been expecting that. She thought he'd be out later. Clarke caught Bellamy's eye, already feeling the guilt come back in full force, but this time, for a different reason. He hadn't seen the suitcase yet. He had a bag of Thai food in his hand. For once, Clarke wished he wasn't here.

Maybe it was the coward's way out, but she couldn't do a goodbye with him. Because Clarke knew - she always knew - that if it weren't for Bellamy, she would have left a long time ago.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Bellamy had always liked to watch Clarke sleep, but lately, he'd liked it even more. She'd been so worried, trying to bear everything herself, but when she was sleeping, the perpetual wrinkle between her eyebrows smoothed out, and she looked almost peaceful. But he felt his throat catch looking at her now. When he'd come home and seen the stupid letter with his name on it sitting on the counter and Clarke hunched over a suitcase, he was… stunned.

He'd known she was hurting, he'd been there to see it, but he didn't think she'd just up and leave. But now, he was lying next to her in bed, and her suitcase was abandoned on the floor and he didn't know what would happen in the morning. Just half an hour ago, his lips were on her skin, and she was silver in the moonlight, and during those moments, Bellamy was certain she'd stay, but the doubt was creeping back in.

It had taken him a second to realize what was happening. The moment he did, he'd set down the food, and she'd started to cry.

"Clarke, please," he'd begged. "You don't have to go."

"But Bellamy," she'd whispered, "I've already left."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"Raven?" He could hear his voice slurring on the phone. He hated doing this, he hated everything about where he was right now, where Clarke was, how everything had changed so fast. But he knew better than to drive drunk.

"Where are you? We're all here -"

"Can you come pick me up?"

"Are you drunk?"

"I sent you my location. Could you just -"

"We're on our way," she said, and he heard static, telling him she'd already hung up. Raven always did that, ending her phone calls without goodbyes.

At least she didn't end a relationship without one. He looked out the window, at the sky. It was a cloudy night and he couldn't really see anything. He wondered if Clarke was still on the plane or if she'd already landed. He wondered where she ended up. For her sake, he hoped it was somewhere warm, because Clarke hated the cold.

Then, sullenly, he realized he shouldn't hope anything like that because he was still so goddamned angry with her.

By the time Raven finally got to the bar, he'd fallen asleep on the counter. He was angrily shaken awake by Miller.

"Dude, what the hell?"

Bellamy blinked his eyes open, groaning. There were Jasper, Monty, Raven, and Miller standing there looking down on him. "I told you to pick me up, not bring everyone to watch."

"It's Saturday night. We always meet at Miller's on Saturdays. You were the one who didn't show," Monty said.

"Yeah, well." He pushed himself up off the stool, wobbling precariously to the right before steadying himself. He didn't look behind him as he headed towards the door.

"Bellamy, stop." Raven walked up to him, then said in a low voice, so only he could hear, "What's Clarke gonna say when you come home like this?"

He smiled, humorlessly, and then pushed out the door, onto the sidewalk. He heard them calling after him, but he just kept walking. Maybe he didn't need a ride after all. The night air was cool against his skin, though the traffic sounds weren't helping his headache. He just wanted to turn back time to last night. Things weren't any easier then, but at least he was with Clarke. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to say that again.

"What's the matter with you? Why are you acting like this?" He kept walking, but Raven was fast and she caught up to him, grabbing his wrist. It was then that he noticed how badly his hands were shaking. He caught the moment her expression shifted from anger to worry. "Bellamy?" He shook his head. He didn't know what to say. He turned to face the group. Monty, with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Miller, with his hands on his hips, and Jasper, arms crossed in the back, looking indifferent and pissed off, like he always looked these days. He pulled his arm away from Raven but his hands kept shaking.

"It's Clarke," he said, unsure how to phrase it. "She, uh -"  
"Is she okay?" Monty asked.

"She's fine. She's gone."

"Gone…?" Miller shifted his weight.

"She left, okay? Now can one of you please take me home?"

Bellamy turned and started walking away, jaw clenched, but Monty's voice sounded behind him. "Bellamy, hey, can you please just talk to us?"

Reluctantly, he stopped, faced them again. "I came home last night to find her packing. She left this morning. Wouldn't tell me where. Since the accident, she just… She told me she couldn't stay here 's all I know."

Jasper's mouth twisted, and his face betrayed something resembling guilt. "Clarke just left? Without saying goodbye?" No one said anything. Jasper's face hardened again. "Why am I not surprised?"

Bellamy resisted the urge to snap at him, to say something he'd definitely regret in the morning. No one yelled at Jasper anymore. That was the deal. But still, he said, "What was she supposed to do, Jasper? What did you want from her?"

Jasper fired back. "I wanted her to save Maya! I wanted her not to decide that Wells' life was worth more than hers! I wanted her not to play fucking God for once, okay?" And then he pushed past Monty and Miller and Raven, shoving his shoulder into Bellamy.

They were quiet for a moment. "I should, uh, yeah," Monty said, following Jasper.

Raven's face was crumpling, Miller was looking down at the ground, and Bellamy realized just how much of a mess they were all in. No wonder Clarke wanted to forget this town. His hands were still shaking, and he wanted to say something else, but the world started tilting, and before he knew it, he was emptying his stomach all over Miller's shoes.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Jasper visited Bellamy the next morning, eyes red-rimmed and watery, looking almost like who he used to be before the crash. "I'm sorry if she left because of me. I just didn't know what to do," he said. And then, before Bellamy could say anything, he turned on his heel and ran down the hall.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

The bag of Thai food slipped out of Bellamy's hands, and Clarke saw the light go out in his eyes when finally, it sunk in what she was doing. And she started crying. Because there was a time in her life where things could have been easy, and free, and light, where everything would have gone right for them, where she could see her friends being happy, where she could be happy, too. But everything was different now.

She thought about the people Bellamy missed. His mom, who died. His dad, who left. Even Octavia, when she decided to go travelling abroad with Lincoln. She hated to add to that list. But this town was so tiny, and Clarke needed to know that the world was bigger than her, that there were people who didn't know what she'd done.

That would mean hurting Bellamy. There was no way around that. So she kissed him, hard, let the food get cold in the kitchen and pulled him towards the bedroom and fell against him. One last night together. Maybe it would help, or maybe it would make things worse. She didn't know. All she knew was here was Bellamy, and here was their cotton sheets, and here was the moonlight, and here was her pain, so much farther away than it had felt just moments before, and Clarke just wanted to have one more good thing.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

There were sometimes things Bellamy wished Clarke could see, like Jasper laughing and singing along to an old Billy Joel song, or Monty and Miller linking pinkies under the table, or Lincoln and Octavia showing up with matching wedding rings. Even ordinary things he wished she was there for, like one of those dark nights when you could see Jupiter amongst the stars, or watching the trailer for a new movie it looked like she would like, or hearing a really good song on the radio in the car.

The more these moments piled up, the angrier Bellamy got at her for missing them, for being somewhere he couldn't follow.

But it wasn't until months later, when Bellamy finally understood why she left, when he stopped feeling angry and started feeling a bit proud, that there was finally a knock on the door and without opening it, he knew, that she'd come back.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! find me on tumblr @bellamysgriffin


End file.
